


Inherent Risk

by dmdiane



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, protective G
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmdiane/pseuds/dmdiane
Summary: “Why are you tailing me?”“We’re going to the same place.”“Indeed. Were you worried I'm not going to make it?”“Always.”G really does not like Nell in harm's way.





	Inherent Risk

**Author's Note:**

> I stopped watching the show a couple season's back but still love this pairing.

“Miss Jones. Please meet Mr. Callen at the victim’s address.”

Nell Jones blinks away her concentration on the plasma screen and offers her boss a curt nod. She allows Eric Beal a quick glance as he neatly picks up the data search where she left off.

“Be careful out there.” He murmurs.

“Will do.” She huffs a breath and heads downstairs from her station in technology operations toward the gym. Her footsteps are rhythmic on the tile floor in the empty hallway. There’s no one down here and she has eyes on her tablet, pulling up directions and notifying G that she’s on her way.

She changes into a t-shirt and jeans, slipping into an NCIS windbreaker and sliding her pistol into the harness at the small of her back as she shifts her mindset from analysis to field duty. She partners with Deeks or Granger when she’s sent into the field. She trains with G and watches him work from her perch up in technology operations. She doesn’t know why Hetty has decided that today is the day for them to be in the field together.

Callen lounges against the rear of his Mercedes watching Nell park her 4 Runner on the curb. He lifts to stand when she closes the car door. “You good?”

She nods. There’s a moment when they might have a conversation about the operation or the novelty of being in the field together. His gaze travels over her and she’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he must find it, because he smiles slightly and inclines his head at the apartment complex.

Callen indicates an alley beside the building. “In case she runs.”

Nell nods again and walks that way. It’s not a large complex and there’s an ancient complicated set of fire escape stairs from the roof to ground in this alley. Nell peers up and un-holsters her pistol.

What initially looked like the break they needed to shut down gunrunners to Syria now appears to include an element of human trafficking. LAPD, Marty, Sam, and Granger are ambushing a group of men at the private airstrip south of LA. This apartment is the address of a woman who’s either a victim or an accomplice. Through coms Nell hears Callen knock and declare, she also hears Eric give additional information about this woman’s contacts with the parents of young Muslim American girls that swings Nell’s guess closer to accomplice. Seconds later her suspicion is confirmed by a window opening above her and a pair of slender legs swinging out, followed by hips, a narrow waist and a mane of auburn hair. Victims seldom run and bad guys often do. Nell waits until the woman is dangling from her arms – likely unable to hoist herself back into the window – then she levels the gun upwards and shouts. “NCIS. Stop right there.”

The woman’s momentum is already too far gone into her jump and she lands with predictable grace on the fire-escape and glances down at Nell. The assessment is quick and dismissive. With confidence born of seriously underestimating the tiny figure on the ground, the woman reaches for the neighboring stairs 

“Karen Schuler.” Nell shouts again, backing up to get a better sight line. The woman above flinches, confirming her identity. She doesn’t stop. Victim or accomplice, she’s simply pissing Nell off at this point. “NCIS. Stop where you are.” The woman gets both hands on the next stair rail and Nell hears Callen break a door open through the open window. He shouts another declaration. In deference to the outside chance the woman is a frightened victim of something, Nell waits until Karen Schuler gets her feet under her before shooting her. The shot is perfect, grazing the woman’s ankle.

“Nell?” Eric’s voice in her ear.

“Nell?” Callen’s voice from the window.

Nell ignores them in favor of moving to the bottom of the fire escape holding Karen Schuler. “You want to come down now?”

The two women stare at one another for a long moment. Nell is aware of Callen climbing out the window, dropping onto the fire escape, and making an easy stretch to the sliver of metal where Karen Schuler stands on one foot gripping the railing and dripping blood onto the pavement below. When Callen begins his conversation with Schuler, Nell holsters her gun and moves to the bottom of the stairs. The stairs end six feet off the ground and Schuler will need help getting down from there.

Callen shifts the suspect down the narrow metal stairs slowly. She’s given up and he’s got a hand tight at the wrists cuffed in front of her. He’ll need her to be able to lift her arms over her head to suspend her down to Nell in a minute. His gaze drifts to Nell, looking up at him with her ever competent brown regard. “You probably don’t want to irritate her more than you have.” He comments. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

It’s not graceful, but he lowers Schuler to the ground by her arms, where Nell re-cuffs her hands behind her back without offering any support for the ankle.

Callen drops beside her. He’s relaying the situation report to Eric and Hetty. When he’s done Nell grins up at him. “Shakespeare, huh? I’m impressed.”

“Nice shot.” He says. “I’m impressed.” He mimics her tone.

“I can’t walk.” Schuler whines to Callen.

“Not a problem.” He bends and lifts her up over his shoulder.

“Hey. Ow.” She complains.

Callen strides back to the car and bundles their captive into the back seat of the Mercedes. He has a d-ring bolted to the floor for just this circumstance. He hooks her cuffs between her feet and closes the door on her protests.

“Sorry about the blood.” Nell offers.

“Nah, I’ve got the runner mats down.”

“Okay, good.”

“See you at the boatshed?”

“Yep.” Nell pivots back to her truck.

Nell hauls a first aid case into the interrogation room and sets about looking over Karen Schuler’s ankle while the woman demands to be taken to a hospital. Callen reminds her that Homeland Security wants her and will get to her faster at the hospital. He assures her that Nell can take care of her for the interim. He offers to put in a good word for her if she comes clean on the cartel.

The ankle is merely grazed, but bruised and puffy because the bullet glanced off the end of the fibula. Nell cleans the wound and applies a bandage with some pressure. She wraps the ankle tightly, props it on a footstool. She hands the woman a cold compress with a shrug.

“Thank you.” Karen Schuler is offering up all the information she’s ever had about guns and women. Nell slides into the seat next to Callen to listen.

Their interrogation complete, their suspect in custody, they leave the boatshed for the main building. Callen brushes against Nell on the way to the locker room. “No one I’ve shot’s ever thanked me.” He says.

It startles a laugh from her. “That’s because they’re on a gurney cursing you or dead.”

“True.” He acknowledges. “Nice job out there.” He adds.

“You, too. I had no idea how you were gonna get her down those last few feet.” 

“You could’ve waited until she was down or I had her.” He says.

Nell lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t seem wise to let her keep hopping from balcony to balcony.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

They stop at the door to the locker rooms. Callen needs to head into the locker room to change out of bloody clothing. Nell is going to the armory to check in her gun. Their gazes catch and still.

“Okay?” He asks. Hetty doesn’t let them work together or at least hasn’t before this. Because their relationship began in secret, it remains generally unacknowledged, although everyone knows. Hetty doesn’t need another couple dashing around the city armed and conflicted. And, unlike Marty, Callen is a possessive, protective bastard in regards to Nell. Not something one wants to poke too often.

Nell’s gaze softens. “I’m fine. How’re you?”

He shakes his head, bemused, but also negative. “Didn’t like sending you down that alley.” He lifts a hand to touch her face but stops short. “Did not like hearing a gunshot when I couldn’t see you.”

She steps into his touch, tilting her cheek into his hand for a brief moment. Then she straightens. She tends to be quiet on coms while in the field. He can be a bit of a bear even when she’s out with someone else. Oddly, he trusts her with Granger. While his own relationship with Granger is prickly, he is content that Granger would do everything in his power to protect Nell. Possibly true. Granger is ambitious and driven, he also feels somewhat parental toward Nell. She smiles. Right this moment there’s no comforting her love. There’s no guarantee he’ll even be useful for the rest of their shift. She briefly considers asking Hetty to send him home. She blinks slowly.

He nods once more, turns to push open the locker room door.

Nell checks in her weapon, thinking about her dangerous boyfriend. She’s been a field agent for two years. He was never thrilled by her on the street. She suspects his reaction to her in harm’s way was the catalyst that propelled their mutual admiration into her bed. Now their bed. His snarling protectiveness is inconvenient and endearing in equal measure. She hates seeing him distracted by worry. She loves being so cherished.

She climbs back up to tech ops and finds that arrests have been made and intel promises to lead to more. Granger is going to DC. Someone from the CIA is going to Yemen. Job well done yet again. If she hadn’t been out this afternoon, she’d pull up the incoming data and begin the analysis. Trafficking pisses her off nearly as much as being underestimated. As it is, she shuts down her station while she describes the take-down to Eric. She hears Sam come in downstairs and get a similar update from Callen. Then Sam details the larger operation on the piers. Nell and Eric drift downstairs and perch on desks. 

The description of the chase along the docks, replete with automatic weapons fire and one full on car collision, makes it clearer why Hetty hadn’t sent Nell in that direction today instead of Sam. Sam wraps up his tale and announces it’s time for him to go home.

Nell tries to remember when G following her became foreplay. It seems ridiculous that the glimpse of the Mercedes’ grill ignites a little ember of pleasure in her gut, but it certainly does. He is two cars back, a respectable distance if she didn’t know he was back there. She grins. She’s torn between trying to lose him and calling him. After little contemplation, she does both. She puts two more cars between them and taps up the handsfree.

“Hey.” His voice fills the car.

“What were you thinking for dinner? I’m famished.” She says. There’s a trash truck on her right and she changes lanes in front of it, taking an immediate right turn onto a smaller street.

“I hadn’t thought about dinner.” He admits. His tone informs her that he didn’t see her turn and hasn’t noticed she’s not in front of him. Yet.

“What about Fonda San Miguel?” One their favorite neighborhood restaurants.

“Maybe. After we get a …” He trails off into silence.

Nell has to mute her system against her laugh. She turns right again, basically just taking the block. She enjoys the silence of G wondering where she is and hesitating to cop to following her. She unmutes the call. “A what?” She asks.

“Shower.” He says.

“Hmm.” She says. She sees the Mercedes a block up the street in front of her now. He’s driving as slowly as traffic will allow, no doubt trying to decide what to do next. “I might not want to go out again if we shower.” Try as she might to keep her mirth from her voice she must not succeed because she sees his brake lights and hears his breath.

“So. Where are you?”

“Behind you.” She admits. “Why are you tailing me?”

“We’re going to the same place.”

“Indeed. Were you worried I'm not going to make it?”

“Always.”

She’s behind the Mercedes now and sees him acknowledge her in his rearview mirror. It’s bittersweet, this game they play.

“But, the more important question is why are you following me.” He says, and she's pleased to hear a laugh somewhere in his voice.

“Keeping you on your toes.” She chuckles. This is only partly true. Sometimes she thinks that if she can prove how good her skills are, he’ll ease up. Silly thought. Doubting her isn’t the root of his vigilance. The people he’s loved end up dead more often than not. For a long while he stopped loving. Starting again hasn’t been easy. “Let’s stop and eat on the way home.”

“Okay.” He agrees.

An hour later, after a tense meal, they tumble into the house virtually on top of one another. G has the back of Nell’s t-shirt in his fist as he closes the door. He turns and presses her against the door chuckling as she climbs him. She smells of sandalwood and musk. He grips her shirt in his fists enjoying the feel of her weight. She holds his gaze and the corner of her mouth lifts. There it is. The only real thing he knows. He growls, glimpses her smile widening on his way up to her. Into her. Home.

Nell’s mouth crashing into G’s is ferocious. She gives entrance to her mouth with a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. He holds her ribs and balances her with his hips. She splays her hands on his chest. The rumble of his growl in his chest goes straight to her center. Closer. She simply needs closer. She arches against him and he rips her t-shirt at mid-back. His breath hitches with surprise. She giggles, peels the remains of the shirt off over her head. She reaches behind and unhooks her bra, she needs to feel skin on skin. She scrabbles at the back of his shirt, tugging up. Wants closer now. She sets her teeth to the point where his neck meets his shoulder and hums as he groans. “Bed, please.” She huffs.

G turns from the wall, setting her on her feet. She pulls at his hips, walking backwards. He peels his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor, using his body to herd her into the bedroom. It’s easier and faster to undress themselves, kissing as they go. Nell falls on to the bed when the back of her knees hit the mattress and she kicks her pants off. G climbs up over her holding his weight off of her with his arms, he licks at her sternum and nips her chin, captures her mouth. The kiss deepens, steals the air from her lungs.

Strong fingers and lips on her breast reverberate through her, desire pooling at her core. Heat flashes up from her belly, she gasps and stares up, his want clear in his eyes. Those eyes anchoring her here. Holding her safe. Holding her closer. She wants him now, her focus narrowed to him. This. She arches, presses against him from hips to lips. She takes his hand and presses his palm to her center. He props on an elbow, his hand closes on her, fingers caressing between her folds, eliciting a moan. She tightens her grip on his shoulders, sparkles of pleasure circling in her belly. He covers her, sweet weight and friction, low growl near her ear.

When he thrusts up into her she spins away with the deep satisfaction of him filling her to the brim. More. The quickening rhythm and grind send spirals of bliss through her until she spins asunder, sparkles apart. He’s right with her, following her up, up and through, spilling heat and affection into her depths.

She drifts back to awareness slowly, buries her nose in his armpit, giggles. She grips him, not sure quite what she’s got hold of. She tugs and wriggles, wants to be inside him, is jealous he can be in her and she can’t reciprocate 

“Where are you going?” He says.

“Want to be in you.”

He curls, tucks her into his embrace until he’s everywhere, big and heavy and true. She sighs her contentment. He clenches around her. She folds further into the curve of him, her body liquid with release. She nuzzles into the soft kisses he presses to her neck and shoulders. “Love you, too, babe.” She whispers. Sleep tugs at her consciousness. She’s no idea how he will acclimate to the bittersweetness of loving. She wouldn’t give him up for anything. Couldn’t. She does know that tomorrow they will dance this same dance again.

Callen watches Nell sleep. Her expression is tranquil beneath a spill of mahogany hair. It’s nearly morning. He doesn’t dare wake her. She doesn’t wake easy. Despite how peaceful she appears before waking, or maybe because of how peacefully she sleeps, she wakes up slowly and reluctantly. Her otherwise laser-like mind is fuzzy until sometime after breakfast. Not that he minds. He enjoys her leisurely entry into the day. He also enjoys watching her sleep.

He expects a bit of a check in from Hetty today. He gets why she sent Nell out to back him up – is grateful she didn’t send her to the docks where it sounded like all hell broke loose for a bit there. He understands that it isn’t possible to keep Nell safe every minute of every day. Life isn’t safe. He knows. Hetty tells him. Nate tells him. Sam tells him. He argues back that the job is an inherent risk unlike those of more pedestrian lives. He argues that he’s lost too much to it already, his family, his own wellbeing. Nate reminds him mercilessly that the double bind is the inability to maintain relationships with anyone who doesn’t share the choices they make every day. He will tell Hetty that it was fine. It was. She will hear the lie. Because it wasn’t.

 


End file.
